


The Boyfriend Tag

by spraycansoul



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Boyfriends, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Questions, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, YouTube, like literally - Freeform, you will get diabetes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second you see the notification with the Youtube logo, you click on it instantly.</p><p><b>Eric Bittle: “The Boyfriend Tag"</b>, it reads. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your face—you’ve been waiting so long for this.</p><p>OR: The one where Jack finally makes an appearance on Bitty's channel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boyfriend Tag

**Author's Note:**

> These characters are not mine, they are [Ngozi's](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/), but I love them so much and I cannot let them go. This is mostly dialogue/banter, because I didn't know how else to write a Youtube video from an outside point-of-view, so there's also that. I didn't do all the questions, because most of their answers would be boring (do i play any sports? DUH hockey. weird obsessions? DUH hockey and baking.) Concrit is always welcome in the comments!

The second you see the notification, you click on it instantly.

 **Eric Bittle: “The Boyfriend Tag"** , it reads. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your face—you’ve been waiting so long for this.

“C’mon, sweetheart, it’s not that bad, I promise!” a grinning Eric says to someone behind the camera. The focus is a little off, but it’s enough to see that his arms are outstretched, gesturing excitedly to the space on the couch beside him. There’s some shuffling and a sigh before another figure steps into frame. He’s tall is the first thing you notice, much taller than Eric. He has dark brown hair that falls on his forehead, striking blue eyes, a jawline that was most likely carved by the gods, and cheekbones that could probably cut glass. Even slightly blurred, he is, in every sense of the word, gorgeous. He looks sort of familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve seen him before. Probably one of Eric’s previous vlogs, or maybe on his Instagram?

He takes a seat beside Eric, their shoulders touching. The corners of his mouth are turned down in a grimace, but his eyes are bright. “You know I only do this stuff for you,” the man says, nudging Eric gently. You squeal, because _what the fuck, this is going to kill me._

Eric laughs, nudging him back. “And I love you for it,” he reassures him, patting his leg. 

You think, _Christ, they’re adorable. I might never make it._

A jump cut.

The focus is clear now, but only Eric is in frame. “Hey y’all!” Eric greets you, as he usually does, with his endearing Southern drawl. His hands are in the air, waving. “I’m really sorry for the lack of updates these past weeks. Things haven’t been quiet around here,” he says, his eyes widening for emphasis. “But to make up for it, we’re finally filming one of my most requested videos ever! Honestly, I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to introduce y’all to him, but as you may have guessed from the title of this video, we’re doing the boyfriend tag today! And what’s a boyfriend tag without a boyfriend?”

The guy from earlier, with the ice blue eyes and the pointy cheekbones, pops into the frame and plops back down on the couch. He flicks his hand in a small wave, a smile on his lips. “Hey everyone,” he says, a little sheepishly, grabbing Eric’s hand.

“So, Internet Land, this is Jack,” Eric says happily, both of his hands now holding on to Jack’s. “Some of you might think he’s familiar. Tell them why, honey.”

Jack—he has a name!—grins widely, revealing a set of perfect teeth. “I play for the Providence Falconers in the NHL.”

Ah, yes—he’s a professional hockey player. _That’s_ where you know him from.

“Yes, and also, he’s my boyfriend!” Eric finishes smoothly, before continuing his introduction. “So for any of you who don’t know what the boyfriend tag is, basically, Jack and I are just going to answer some questions for you guys about our relationship. It’s been a long time coming, actually, and we thought it was about time to share this stuff with all'a y'all! Are you ready, sweetheart?” He smiles sweetly at Jack, who just nods, smiling back.

* * *

##### When/where did we meet?

Jack pretends to mull this over, tapping a finger to his chin. “Hmm…” he says, for good measure.

Eric shoves him. “You’re a dork,” he accuses.

Jack chuckles, turning to the camera. “We met at Samwell, where we both played on the Mens Hockey team.”

Eric nods. “My freshman year, and Jack’s junior year,” he confirms. "And the first thing he ever said to me was that I needed to eat more protein."

"It was true!" Jack says defensively. "I swear, I'm never going to hear the end of it..."

Eric just laughs. “Okay, that was easy. Next question.”

##### When did you meet my parents?

They both give each other a look at the same time, which causes them both to start giggling.

“I think this might just be your most boring video yet,” Jack chirps.

“Hush, you,” Eric pushes his boyfriend’s chest. “So, I met Jack’s parents for the first time after a game at Samwell my freshman year. They were both lovely, but kind of intimidating. I mean, _Bad Bob Zimmermann_. I was so nervous, I called him ‘Mr. Jack’s Dad!’” Eric cringes at the memory.

Jack laughs. “And I met his mom,” he supplies in between giggles.

Eric narrows his eyes at him. “Yeah, and Jack was jealous because his dad was complimenting me for scoring the winning goal that game.” He smirks at the camera, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jack rolls his eyes. “It was a lucky shot!”

Eric just pats his knee. “You wish, Mr. Zimmermann.”

##### Where/when was our first kiss?

“I’m going to let you take this one, ‘kay? Because I honestly still have no idea what happened there,” Eric tells Jack before shooting a knowing look at the camera, and Jack smiles sheepishly.

“Okay. Fine.” He takes a look at Eric before turning back to the camera. “So, my graduation day at Samwell, um, after Eric and I said goodbye at the quad, my dad had, um. I guess he sort of noticed something was off?” Jack pauses to check Eric’s reaction, but he just urges him on. “Okay, anyway, my dad tells me something that my uncle once said, and I guess it just gave me that one extra push. I, uh, ran back to the Haus,” he tells Eric, mostly, his cheeks and ears turning red. “That’s why I was panting, remember? And then, uh… yeah. I kissed him.” A stupid smile appears on Jack’s face at the memory.

“Really?” Eric raises his eyebrows. “You never told me that! What was the thing?”

Jack looks confused. “What?”

“That your uncle said,” Eric clarifies.

“Oh.” Jack smiles to himself. “He once said, ‘You miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take,’ and my dad never lets me forget.”

Eric’s mouth drops open. “Your uncle _Wayne Gretzky_?!” 

Jack shrugs. “Yes?"

Eric shakes in head in disbelief, but squeezes his hand. “Well, I’m glad you took that shot.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, pressing his lips to Eric’s knuckles. “Me too."

##### Who said “I love you” first?

Eric says, “Jack,” at the same time Jack says, "Bits.”

They look at each other, equal parts confused, incredulous, and amused.

“It was totally you!” Eric says, looking mildly offended, slapping Jack’s bicep.

Jack looks confused. Innocent, honest-to-God confused. “No, it was you, remember? Fourth of July?”

A flash of recognition appears on Eric’s face, but he waves it away just as quickly. “Yeah, I mean I did say it then, but you said it first that one time over Skype! Late June, I think it was. Maybe a week before you came down to visit?”

If it rings any bells, Jack doesn’t show it. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Bits.”

Eric sighs dramatically. “We were Skyping, remember? I was really sleepy so you said goodnight, and then you said it. ' _Je t’aime, Bitty,_ '” he says, waving a hand around as he completely butchers Jack’s accent.

Jack looks caught. He hesitates. “But the question was who said ‘I love you’ first!”

“Oh, bless your heart. French still counts,” Eric states, matter-of-factly.

Jack breathes a dazed little laugh. “I thought you were asleep,” he admits.

“Well, clearly, you thought _wrong_ , mister. So hah!” Eric shoves his pointer finger in Jack’s face for emphasis.

Despite this, Jack slings an arm around Eric’s shoulders, grinning. “Well, the point is, we’ve both said it at some point."

##### Where was our first date?

Eric laughs out loud as Jack reads the question. “I’m not sure if the truck on the fourth of July counts as a date,” he looks questioningly at Jack, who only thoughtfully cocks his head to the side. Eric continues, turning to the camera this time. “But I would say the first _real_ date was the first time I went up to stay with this one in Providence. Jack “110%” Zimmermann here took me out to this really swanky restaurant down the block. We had a whole private room to ourselves because Jack hadn’t been out yet. Flowers, candlelight, the whole nine yards,” he recounts dreamily.

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Eric looks scandalized. “You don’t remember?!”

“No, no, of course I remember!” Jack shakes his head, frowning a little. “I just thought it was before that…"

“Okay, well, what would you call our first official date, then?”

Jack furrows his brows so that they almost meet in the middle. “Um, I don’t know, Annie’s?”

Eric’s jaw hits the floor. “ _Annie’s?_ ” 

Jack looks confused. “…Yeah? Like, that time by the river.” Eric still looks completely bewildered, so he continues. “Remember I asked if you wanted to get coffee? Jumped over that snowbank and everything. Like, I knew you had a test coming up that day, but you still said yes, so I thought maybe that meant something."

Eric hasn't recovered. "That was a _date?_ "

“Um, yes?"

Eric shakes his head in disbelief. “This boy…”

“What?” Jacks looks defensive.

A moment passes and they both share a meaningful look. “You’ve liked me _since Annie’s_?!”

Jack’s eyes widen. “I mean… I guess? Maybe even before.” He shrugs.

Eric is still shaking his head, which is now in one of his hands. “Lord, what am I going to do with you,” he drawls, but his ears and cheeks are bright red.

##### How long have we been together?

Jack hums as he contemplates. “Almost three years now,” he says. He sounds a little incredulous. Eric just nods in confirmation.

“Would've been longer if you'd told me that Annie's was a date..."

Jack groans. "By just a few months!" he shoots back.

##### What is my favorite restaurant?

"Oh, dear lord. Jack loves Chipotle," Eric sighs exasperatedly.

"What's wrong with Chipotle? It's pretty healthy!" Jack frowns.

Eric rolls his eyes. "Sure it is, baby boy."

Jack flushes outrageously at the pet name, looking flustered. “What do you know about healthy? You’re the one who secretly loves Panda Express,” he manages, smirking.

Eric’s eyes grow to the size of hockey pucks. “YOU SHUT YOUR BEAUTIFUL MOUTH, JACK ZIMMERMANN.” He’s shoving Jack off of the couch, but who is he kidding—Jack is almost twice is his size.

Jack just pulls Eric in, kissing his hair. “Don’t worry, your cooking will always be my favorite."

##### What do we argue about the most?

“Okay, Jack, on three. One, two, three—” 

“Butter,” they say in perfect unison, before cracking up.

##### If I’m watching tv, what am I watching?

“What’s that show that you like? The cooking show?” Jack asks Eric, who is giving him a look that probably says, ‘Which one?’ "The Cutting Edge?” Jack tries. 

Eric busts out laughing. “Jack. Honey. It’s Cutthroat Kitchen,” he says in between chuckles. “The Cutting Edge is the figure skating movie.”

Jack just shrugs. 

“You would. You totally would," Eric shakes his head. "Of course, Jack here would be watching hockey. Or maybe the History channel, because he’s a nerd. Pawn Stars.” He smirks.

“Hey!” Jack thumps Eric’s chest with a pillow. “You like Pawn Stars, too!”

“ _No_ , I like _you_ ," Eric teases.

Jack throws his head back in laughter. "Oh, yeah? Is that why when you're not watching some insane cooking show, you're watching NHL replays?"

Eric scowls and huffs indignantly. "Now you're just fishing for compliments."

##### What is one food I don’t like?

Jack clucks his tongue when he hears the question. “Eric Richard Bittle loves any and all kinds of food. Even bitter melon and raisins.”

“And he knows this because he hates bitter melon and raisins.” Eric smiles knowingly.

##### What drink do I order when we go out to eat?

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Alcohol or no?”

Eric peruses his choices for a beat. “Mmm… okay, both ways.”

Jack cocks his head to the side. “Okay, um. No alcohol, Sprite. Alcohol… red wine. Or some sort of margarita? You like Tanqueray,” he rattles off, wrinkling his nose.

Eric pretends to contemplate his answers. “Yeah, alright. I think I’d drink anything though, right?”

“True,” Jack laughs. “But what would I get?”

“Mmm…no alcohol, water. Alcohol, _water_.” Eric rolls his eyes grandly. 

“Exactly."

“You’re boring, dear.”

Jack grins despite himself. “You love me anyway.”

##### What size shoe do I wear?

Jack guffaws—honest-to-God doubles over in laughter. “Itty Bitty,” he chokes out in between ha’s. Someone off-camera laughs as well.

“Rude!” Eric pouts. “My feet ain't all _that_ small.”

“You’re a size 8, Bits. That’s five whole sizes smaller than me,” Jack teases.

“That’s completely normal!” Eric insists, throwing his hands up for emphasis. “We can’t all be Bigfoot!”

That same unidentified laugh erupts. “You know what they say about guys with big feet,” the unknown voice says.

“Shut up, Shits!” Eric reddens and throws a pillow at something—some _one_ —behind the tripod. 

“Just that they have fuckin’ huge shoes, Bits. Get your mind out of the goddamn gutter!” Behind The Camera Guy says, and Jack joins him in laughter.

Eric turns into a tomato.

##### What is my favorite type of sandwich?

"PB&J for you," Eric nudges Jack. "I make him one before every game. He gets pretty antsy about pre-game rituals."

Behind The Camera Guy gasps loudly. “Those are _sacred_!”

Jack chuckles in agreement. “Did you know I almost had a panic attack once when you moved in and stopped writing those little notes because then you could say it in person, right? I had to stop putting them on the fridge and break a ritual because they stopped coming. It’s a good thing we won that game,” he muses.

For the first time, Eric is the one looking confused. “What?”

Jack smiles sheepishly. “You didn't know I used to keep all of the Post-it notes you put on the sandwiches?” He shifts on the couch. “Wait here,” he says to the camera before bolting off.

“Jack—what are you—”

Jack flops back down on the couch a moment later, holding a stack of sticky notes clamped together and dropping them down on Eric's lap. “Lord,” Eric gasps as he flips through it. “Oh my lord, Jack. What the heck and a half!” He looks up at Jack, and Jack just shrugs. “You really kept every one of them?”

Jack shrugs again. “Yeah. I used to put them up on the fridge, but then I had to put them away every time someone came over, so I just kept them in a drawer,” he explains. 

“HOLY SHIT,” the off-camera voice shouts. “Dude, you never told me those were from _Bitty!_ ”

“Yeah, well, I mean, you never explicitly _asked_ ,” Jack points out, looking beyond the camera and shrugging a third time.

Eric sighs. “Aw, I love you, sweetheart,” he says, patting Jack's cheek affectionately.

Jack pulls him in and presses a kiss to his temple. "Je t'aime aussi.”

“Get a room!” Behind The Camera Guy says.

Eric looks pointedly beyond the camera. “I swear to God, Shitty, you will keep your mouth shut or so help me, I will never bake you another pie again—” He’s getting up from the couch, but Jack tries to pull him down, looking amused. His hold loosens, though, and Eric breaks free, lunging at Behind The Camera Guy—whose name is apparently Shitty.

The camera shakes and the footage cuts to black.

##### What is one talent I have?

“Okay,” Eric says, out of breath. “Sorry ‘bout that, y’all. _Some_ body was being a little shit.” He sighs.

“A little Shitty,” Jack corrects cheekily.

A head of shaggy hair pops up beside Eric. The guy has an exquisite mustache and bright green eyes, and he’s not wearing a shirt to go with his denim cut-offs for some reason, but he looks very entertained. “Aw, c’mon, Bits. You know you love me,” Shitty says, nudging Eric with puppy dog eyes.

Eric ignores him, but scoots over to his left, toward Jack, to make space. “Everyone, this is Shitty. He just got here and he’s already wreaking havoc,” he says, before turning to Shitty and gesturing to the camera.

“Hi there,” Shitty says as he sits next to Eric. "I’m Jack’s other boyfriend.” He winks, and Jack laughs.

Eric sighs dramatically before handing Shitty his phone. “You can ask the questions, since you’re just going to keep butting in anyway.” Eric leans forward and holds his hand up to his mouth, as if to whisper. “Sorry in advance for all the swearing, folks. Shitty hasn’t developed a filter.”

Shitty clutches at his chest, feigning hurt. “After all we’ve been through? Did all that mean fuckin’ nothing to you?” Eric glares at him, but Shitty quickly recovers. He clears his throat dramatically. “Okay, Bits, here’s the question: what is one talent that Jack has?”

A smirk slowly spreads across Eric’s face. “Have you ever heard Jack rap?”

Jack smacks him in the face with a pillow, muttering, “Shut up."

##### What is my favorite music?

“Speaking of rap…” Eric beams, his laughter muffled by a throw pillow.

“Okay, Jacky boy, you got this,” Shitty says, rubbing his hands together.

“Beyoncé,” Jack says without missing a beat.

“BING-FUCKING-GO!” Shitty jumps out of his seat, fist-bumping Jack over Eric’s head.

Eric winces, but he looks amused. “Jack’s been into Hamilton recently, hence the rapping,” he says. Shitty laughs maniacally. “But usually it’s anything one might consider ‘dad rock.’” 

"Hey! Isn't there a quota for chirps in your videos?" Jack crosses his arms.

Eric juts his chin out, smirking. "Not when you're around," he says.

Shitty plops back down on the couch noisily and smiles devilishly. “And definitely _not_ when I’m around. Mr. Shitty has kept his peace for TOO FUCKIN’ LONG, LADIES AND GENTS!” he shouts, flailing. “LET IT BE KNOWN THAT JACK LAURENT 'BEST ASS IN THE NHL' ZIMMERMANN LISTENS TO TIM MCGRAW!”

Eric shakes his head, laughing fondly. “You have no idea, y’all. I literally wake up to Tom Petty some days, and those are the _good_ days,” he sounds exasperated, but a smile is playing at his lips.

Jack groans, slapping a hand to his face. “Hey, I don’t complain about Ariana Venti or whatever,” he defends himself.

“Ariana _Grande_ ,” Eric laughs, and Shitty has doubled over, trying to catch his breath, “and I ain’t complaining. I happen to find your dorkiness endearing.”

Shitty scoffs. “That’s ‘cause you didn’t have to sit through ‘I Won’t Back Down’ every goddamn day while he was secretly pining for you,” he says.

Eric just shrugs. “I think that would support my claim.”

##### What is my eye color?

“Brown,” Jack says easily.

“And yours are blue,” Eric finishes.

Shitty groans. “LAME. Couldn’t you at least _pretend_ to not know to make it more interesting?”

Eric looks at Shitty quizzically. “Shitty. Everyone and their grandmother knows that Jack’s eyes are the most gorgeous blue on the face of this planet.”

Shitty just nods in agreement. “Oh, right. Of course. This beautiful motherfucker and his baby blues.” He thumps Jack affectionately on the back. Jack grunts, but his cheeks are red.

##### Who is my best friend?

“I am both of your best friends,” Shitty announces immediately after reading the question. 

Eric considers this, cocking his head to the side. “I think I could make a case for Lardo being my—”

“I AM BOTH OF YOUR BEST FRIENDS,” Shitty insists, looking pointedly at Eric.

“Just let him have it,” Jack stage-whispers to Eric.

Eric crosses his arms. “Fine, but only because Lardo’ll kick your sorry ass when she sees this.”

Shitty’s eyes widen. “Shit. You’re right.” He taps his chin. “Hm. Okay, fine. I’m _Jack’s_ best friend and _your_ second best friend.”

Eric nods his assent. “Better."

Jack snorts. “Butter,” he says, cracking up. 

##### What is something I do that you wish I didn’t?

“Uh-oh,” Shitty raises both eyebrows. “You guys aren’t gonna make me play Dr. Phil with you guys, right?” he chirps, but his tone is solemn. “Or, like, Oprah or something? Though I think I could totally pull a ’swawesome Oprah…”

Eric rolls his eyes. “Naw, Shits. Jack knows my answer to this one,” he says.

Jack sighs loudly, looking as if he’s had this conversation a million times before. “It’s rude to change the thermostat to a colder setting without your permission, especially while you are sleeping,” he recites robotically.

“And?” Eric prompts.

“…And it’s also rude to question the obscene amount of butter in the fridge when your boyfriend is _clearly_ a superb baker,” he finishes in the same bored monotone.

Eric looks satisfied, but Shitty doesn’t. “What, that’s it? What about for Bitty?”

Jack smirks, and Eric takes that as his cue. He lets out a long breath before putting on the same bored look on Jack’s face earlier. “It’s rude to hog the refrigerator space with,” air quotes for emphasis, “ _obscene_ amounts of butter,” he states solemnly.

“And?”

“ _And_ I can always use a blanket, blah, blah, _blah_ ,” he says, waving a hand dismissively.

A grin slowly spreads on Shitty’s face. “N’awww, you guys are adorable! I'm so fuckin' proud of you," he gushes, wiping non-existent tears from his eyes. “You get a hug! And _you_ get a hug!” he bellows, jumping in between Jack and Eric to pull them both into his arms. “ _Everybody gets a hug!!!_ ”

##### If I could live anywhere, where would it be?

Eric seems to contemplate his options. “Ooooh, I would love to live in California,” he says. “The weather over there is gorgeous.”

Jack grunts. “I still think I’d like to live in Montreal,” he says truthfully. “No place like home, eh?”

Eric groans. “Oh, lord, but I’m never going to go back to living in Georgia.”

“You couldn’t make me live there if you paid me, honestly,” Jack agrees. “Although it’s pretty during the summer. Visits are always nice.”

“New York is great, I think that would be nice,” Eric muses. “We could watch musicals whenever, walk around Central Park. You could play for the Rangers,” he nudges Jack.

“Or the Islanders,” Shitty supplies helpfully, clearly suppressing a laugh.

Jack shakes his head, smiling down at Eric. “Can you imagine if we moved to California and I ended up with the Sharks?”

Shitty guffaws. “Jesus. Chowder will lose his adorable goalie mind!” 

“You love it here in Providence, though,” Jack says, matter-of-factly.

“I do,” Eric confirms, nodding. “But I think I’d follow you just about anywhere, mister.” 

Shitty gags. “Is this normal for boyfriend tags? Are people usually this sappy?”

##### What is my favorite sports team?

“What’s that hockey team we like, Shits?” Eric says, feigning innocence. He’s clearly teasing Jack.

Shitty stokes his mustache, contemplating. “The Pittsburgh Penguins?” he suggests, and Bitty shakes his head.

“No, not them. Though that Sidney Crosby is a total sweetheart,” Eric says thoughtfully.

“And his _ass_ ,” Shitty agrees, nodding seriously.

“Sweetheart, eh?” Jack harrumphs, crossing his arms.

Shitty and Eric pretend not to hear him. “Not the best ass in the NHL, though, I have to say,” Eric points out, and Shitty nods again. 

“Oh, yeah definitely.”

Jack is blushing furiously, but the other two seem to be actively ignoring him, pretending to be lost in thought.

“Aha!” Shitty exclaims. His acting is terrible, but he seems to be doing it on purpose. “I know! The Providence Falconers!”

Jack is rolling his eyes grandly, but Eric widens his eyes in mock-surprise. “Oh, yes! And their star player… My, my, that Jack Zimmermann,” Eric swoons, clutching his chest.

Shitty swoons along with him. “Baby got _back_ ,” he assents. “Now _that_ is the best in the NHL.”

Jack slaps Shitty on the chest. “Wrong answer, both of you,” he scolds, tired of being ignored.

They both shoot him questioning looks, and he raises both his eyebrows, one for each of them. “Samwell Mens Hockey?” he reminds them. “Ring any bells?”

Eric and Shitty burst into hysterical laughter. “You’re right, Cap,” Shitty pants. “Of course.”

Jack grins smugly, shrugging. “You’ve _clearly_ forgotten about Eric Bittle,” he says exasperatedly. “Now that’s a great ass if I’ve ever seen one.”

Shitty holds out a fist for Jack to bump as Eric turns red. “Debatable,” Eric manages to choke out.

For a moment, Jack and Eric share a meaningful look. They both looks so utterly in love that it almost sickens you.

It is clearly sickening Shitty, who takes that as his cue. “And who could forget that gorgeous motherfucker, Shitty B. Knight!” 

Jack and Eric both start cackling as Shitty stands up to pose, both their eyes shining bright.

* * *

After the jump cut, it’s only Eric and Jack in frame again. “Okay, y’all, those are all the questions,” Eric says as Shitty hands him back his phone, and you can’t help but feel sad that the video is ending, because it’s one of his best yet. You don’t even care that in the past fifteen minutes, they’d barely mentioned any pies, because this is the happiest you’ve ever seen Eric. 

“Really?” Jack sounds and looks incredulous. “That’s all of them?”

“Yeah,” Eric confirms. “Did you want more?”

For a second, Jack looks panicked. “No, no, thanks,” he says quickly.

Eric laughs, looking like he's expecting this answer. “See, I told you it wasn’t going to be so bad! We did it!” he says enthusiastically, raising a hand for Jack to high-five. As Jack raises his hand to meet him, Eric tickles his ribs. Jacks folds over, laughing.

“No, don’t tickle—stop!” Jack pleads in between fits of giggles. “Bitty,” he manages, finally shoving him off. Eric falls onto the couch, laughing.

“Okay, seriously,” Eric says once he’s recovered. Jack ruffles his hair as he speaks. “That’s all for this video! Thanks for watching, y’all! Don’t forget to leave a thumbs up if you’ve enjoyed this video. Maybe if we get to a hundred thousand likes, I can get Jack to do another video with me.” 

Jack cocks his head to the side teasingly. “Hmm… two hundred likes,” he says. “And I get a kiss.”

Eric grins before complying, pecking his lips quickly. And that’s it, you’re gone. You’re dead. _RIP in peace._

“Y’all heard the man, then, y'all know what to do!” Eric says, looking impossibly more radiant than before. You automatically push the thumbs-up button, wishing you could hit it one hundred and ninety-nine thousand more times. “Thanks for doing this, sweetheart,” he tells Jack, patting his knee.

“Anytime, mon cheri,” Jack says automatically, smiling gently. 

“Please hit subscribe if you haven’t, and if you have any questions, y’all can leave ‘em in the comments and we’ll try to get to as many as possible!” You make a mental note to ask them what Jack’s favorite pie is. Something maple-glazed, maybe? Or is that stereotyping? “Mmm, you wanna say anything, honey?” Eric looks up at Jack.

“Bye,” Jack says, a dorky smile on his face.

“Aaaand we’ll see you next time!” Eric promises, giving a little wave before the screen cuts to black.

You squeal loudly, indulging yourself a little because you’re proud of yourself for coming out of that fluff-fest alive, before you hit repeat.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! hmu on [tumblr](http://it-bitty.tumblr.com) so we can talk about these adorable hockey gays + i've also made a couple [fanmixes](http://it-bitty.tumblr.com/tagged/zimbits-fanmix) if any of y'all are interested hihi


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